


Invitations and Intentions

by thesewarmstars



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Post - Deathly Hallows, Post-Hogwarts, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-02-24
Updated: 2009-02-24
Packaged: 2018-01-25 09:41:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1644170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesewarmstars/pseuds/thesewarmstars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Snape wants something from her.  Hermione doesn’t know what it is, but she’s determined to find out.</p><p>This was written as a response to the following prompts from the LiveJournal community <a href="http://quote_inspired.livejournal.com">quote_inspired</a>:<br/>1.  "Oh no! Pretend you're talking to me!"<br/>"We <i>are</i> talking to you." (The Chronicles of Narnia: Prince Caspian)<br/>2.  "This is no time to panic." <br/>"This is a perfect time to panic!" (Toy Story)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Invitations and Intentions

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** I’m making zero dollars off this story.

Severus Snape had been throwing her glances all evening, and she had no idea why. 

Once she thought about it, she realized he had been doing so for quite some time. In fact, she could recall at least two instances – the New Year’s Eve Ball and last Halloween’s masked gala, if she wasn’t mistaken – in which he’d approached her seemingly for the sole purpose of making small talk. She hadn’t given it a second thought at the time, but pointless chatter was distinctly out of character for the Severus Snape she knew. What was he up to?

All things considered, she was surprised he continued to attend events such as this. Not that she thought he wouldn’t want to celebrate the third anniversary of Voldemort’s defeat, she just figured he wouldn’t want to do so in the presence of so many people he clearly detested.

A hand waved in front of her face. “Earth to Hermione! Are you in there?”

“Harry, hullo! Didn’t see you there.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Yes, I’d noticed that.”

Ron ambled over with a plate piled six inches high with food. “Have you seen the buffet table? Blimey, it’s even better than the Christmas party!”

“That’s great, Ron.”

“Yep. Wonderful,” Harry added.

“Yeah,” Ron sighed, a dreamy look on his face, before stuffing two crab puffs into his mouth at once.

Hermione grimaced.

“Where’s… er, your girl?”

Hermione couldn’t blame Harry for forgetting the woman’s name. It seemed Ron had a different witch on his arm almost every time she saw him.

“Filigree? She dropped me.” Ron shrugged and began sorting through his pile of petit fours.

“Right, then. So Harry, how’s Ginny? I haven’t seen her tonight.”

The wince that crossed Harry’s face was filled with so much pain that Hermione automatically closed the distance between them and wrapped her arms around him. “Oh, Harry, what’s wrong?”

“Ginny, she… she was p-pregnant,” he whispered, “and-and she… it…”

“She miscarried?”

Harry nodded jerkily. “Yeah. Yeah, she did.”

“She’s at home?”

“The Burrow. Molly’s there with her.”

“You should go be with them, Harry.”

Ron stepped behind Harry into her field of view. “Oi! What’s going on?”

Harry pulled away from her and shook his head. “Ginny’s having a bad night. We were just saying I should probably go home to her.”

“ ‘S wrong with her?” Ron asked with a furrowed brow.

Harry clapped him on the back. “I’m gonna get going. I’ll see you guys this weekend, yeah?”

“Er, yeah.”

“Of course, Harry.” As her eyes followed Harry’s attempt at a discreet exit from the ballroom, she noticed Snape watching her again.

“What was with Harry?” Ron asked around a mouthful of watercress sandwich.

Snape started walking toward them with purpose in his stride.

“Ron!” she hissed. “Quick, pretend you’re talking to me!”

“Er, thought I was, mate.” He eyed her with concern and no small amount of curiosity. “Are you all right?”

Before she could reply, Snape was upon them. “Miss Granger. Mr. Weasley.” He nodded to them each in turn.

“I, erm… right.” Ron held up his mostly empty plate. “Time for a fill up,” he announced, then scarpered off to the buffet table.

“Good evening, Professor.”

“I haven’t been a professor for three years now.”

“Of course… Mr. Snape.” The name tasted strange on her tongue.

Snape must have agreed, because he grimaced. Schooling his features back into a blank mask, he asked, “Are you having a pleasant evening thus far?”

She tugged on the hems of her sleeves. If only she could suss out _why_ Snape kept approaching her and saying nothing at all, she was sure she would rest much easier. “Not particularly, no. And you?”

He sneered in the general direction of the crowd. “Imbeciles, the lot of them.”

She decided that, as long as Snape insisted on talking to her, she might as well see if she could get a few of her own questions answered. “Why come, then?”

His eyes darted three or four different directions before they settled her left shoulder. “It is only at such events that I am afforded an opportunity to interact with various… acquaintances.”

She wondered at the truth of that. The only person she’d noticed him with this evening was Headmistress McGonagall, and he seemed to spend most of that conversation trying to get away from her. “Of course,” she replied with obvious disbelief.

He frowned. “Miss Granger…”

“Yes, Pro – Mr. Snape?”

“I…” He paused, but then seemed to change his mind about what to say. “How is your work progressing?”

“Reasonably well, thank you.” Suddenly, she realized she had no idea what he did for a living now that he was no longer teaching. “And yours?”

He seemed to recognize her ignorance and, surprisingly, corrected it without belittling her. “Bobbin Brews will likely be notified of the completion of my latest research project within a few weeks. Unfortunately, the details are proprietary.”

“Oh, I understand.”

They stood in awkward silence after that. Hermione tried to direct her attention to the couples on the dance floor, but she was intensely aware of the wizard next to her. If it had been any man but Severus Snape standing so close to her, she’d think he had an ulterior motive. 

Well, she was fairly certain Snape _did_ have an ulterior motive, just not that one. She gave her head a shake, trying to dislodge the idea from her brain. It would not do to start looking at Snape in that light – if he ever found out, he’d probably reduce her to rubble with just the power of his poison tongue, regardless of how dapper he looked in his dress robes. 

She chastised herself for her thoughts. Honestly, Harry had just dumped a tragedy on her! She should have been thinking about her two friends, not the way Snape’s cheekbones were accentuated with his hair pulled back.

But she still didn’t know what he wanted.

“So, how have you been?” she ventured, hoping he might elaborate a bit and answer her real question.

“As ever. I trust you are well?”

“Reasonably.” Clearly, she would have to be more direct. “Was there something in particular you wished to discuss?”

His entire posture stiffened, and there was a moment of tense silence during which she wondered if he might flee. When Snape finally spoke, the words came out in a rush. “Would you meet me for dinner tomorrow evening?”

It was a question, though she wouldn’t have been able to tell that by his intonation, so she felt compelled to answer. An ingrained response of, “Certainly,” escaped her lips before she could really think about what she was agreeing to.

The tension flowed out of Snape’s body. He nodded in her direction, said, “I’ll collect you at half seven,” and strode across the ballroom, right out the double doors.

She looked after him slack-jawed. What in Merlin’s name…?

Ron wandered up to her, licking his fingers. “He gone, then?”

“Apparently.”

“What did he want?”

“No idea.” 

She was thoroughly confused, but it did not escape her attention that Severus Snape seemed to know where she lived or that his brusque invitation had considerably lifted her mood.

XXXXX

“Do you enjoy your research? I realize you can’t tell me much about it, but you seemed pleased when you mentioned it yesterday.”

Severus had to commend her for making such a valiant effort. She was clearly anxious and bewildered, but she had been nothing but polite and engaging throughout dinner. Other virtues aside, the witch certainly had poise.

“I enjoy it very much. It’s provides me the perfect intellectual challenge. Quite an improvement over Hogwarts, where the challenge was not to flay any of my _charming_ students.”

She laughed. It was an amazing sound, and it made her eyes dance. “Yes, I know exactly what you mean. At the Department of Magical Catastrophes, I spent all my time and energy trying not to explain to my colleagues in excruciating detail just how ignorant they were. Now that I’m in Mysteries, I can devote myself to more interesting things.”

“As it should be.”

“Quite so.”

Severus had to fight to hide his smile. It had been so long since he had truly enjoyed conversation. When he glanced up and caught her fond look, he was forced to abort his reaction by sipping his wine. He hated to think what that reaction might have been if it had managed to escape.

The waiter appeared as if by magic – unlikely, as it was a muggle restaurant – and asked, “Will Madame and Monsieur be wanting dessert tonight?”

“Miss Granger?”

She put a hand over her belly. “I’m afraid I couldn’t eat another bite.”

“There you have it,” Severus told the waiter. “You may bring the check.”

“Right away, Monsieur,” he answered with a slight bow before scurrying away.

A few minutes later, the bill had been paid and they were making their way to the door. There had been a brief argument when he tried to cover the entire meal and she insisted on paying half. Severus, worried about making a fool of himself, had acquiesced with little persuasion – perhaps that was how it was done these days.

Once they’d gained the footpath, Granger spoke. “Well, I can honestly say it’s been a lovely evening. Thank you again for the invitation, Mr. Snape.”

“Severus,” he blurted.

She started. “Beg pardon?”

“I would prefer Severus.”

“Of course, Severus. Do call me Hermione,” she answered, beaming.

He acquiesced with a bob of his head. “Allow me to escort you home.”

Her eyes widened. “Well, that’s really not… But I suppose… Why not?” She tucked her arm over his elbow. “Shall we?”

He concentrated on her front step and Disapparated. When he opened his eyes, he caught her pensive expression.

“Well, I suppose this is goodnight,” she murmured.

“Miss… Hermione…” he began.

“Yes?”

“I… It’s nothing.” He shook his head. “Good evening.”

“Wait!” she called, and he paused mid-step. “Would you… care for a cup of tea? Nightcap, perhaps?”

Heart pounding, he nodded.

She poured out in the sitting room. He tried not to watch her throat when she swallowed, but found it was impossible. After several minutes of sitting on her sofa in awkward silence, she chuckled and set her tea aside. “I’m sorry I’m being so silly. You’d think I was on a first date, the way I’m carrying on.” She gave her head an exasperated shake. 

Severus was horrified. “What, precisely, did you think it was?” Merlin, he must be horribly out of practice if she didn’t even know he’d asked her out. Not that he’d been that successful at it twenty years ago, but at least the witches had known what he was about well enough to turn him down.

“Well, there’s obviously something you wished to discuss, and we’ve made it through the entire evening without you mentioning it.” She tilted her head in question.

He gulped, mind racing. He could probably work with this. “I wanted to thank you for… coming back for me, in the Shrieking Shack. For saving me.”

She blinked. “Oh.”

He thought perhaps she looked disappointed, but it might have been a projection of his rebellious mind.

“It was… kind of you. I owe you a debt.”

“No!” She closed her eyes for a moment and resumed in a more moderated tone. “You owe me nothing. Consider it a small step toward repaying you for all you’ve done.”

“Very well. If you insist.”

“I do.” She furrowed her brow and pursed her lips, giving her a somewhat fraught expression. “Was that it, then?”

“Nearly.” He bent toward her slowly, desperate to make a move but equally apprehensive that it would not be well received. He was no Gryffindor, but he tried to steel his courage by reminding himself that he had come this far with no dire consequence. Surely now, on the brink of success, was not the time to panic and cower in fear.

Though, in other ways, it seemed the perfect time. He and Hermione appeared to be well on their way to becoming friends. Would his actions ruin that chance? Was it worth the risk?

His inner debate was interrupted when Hermione closed the scant distance between them and pressed her lips against his.

Oh, it was even better than he’d imagined! Her mouth moved against him with cautious enthusiasm and one small hand crept over his shoulder into his hair.

He groaned.

He felt her smile against his skin and moved a hand up to cup her cheek. “Hermione,” he breathed.

Her moan vibrated through him and settled in the pit of his belly. Suddenly, she swung a leg over his lap and straddled him.

“Better?” she asked, rocking her hips. She leaned over him, her hair tickling his face.

“Acceptable.” He wrapped his arms around her back and told himself it was to keep her from falling.

She leaned back a bit. “Wait.”

Oh, no. He should have known things were going too well. What sort of fool had he been to think she – 

“We should take this in the other room.”

“Oh.” He swallowed past the hope bubbling up from his chest. “Yes, let’s.”

She led him into the bedroom, hips swaying. Had she always walked like that? Surely he’d have noticed.

When she made it to the bed, she turned and bit her lip.

He hoped she wasn’t about to change her mind. “Are you nervous?”

After a brief hesitation, she nodded. 

“There is no need. I would never intentionally hurt you.”

Hermione smiled at that and reached up to tug at his collar. “Good. Get your kit off, then.”

He tried to comply with her shockingly blunt request with as much alacrity as possible, but it was difficult to concentrate with her stripping off right there in front of him. She stumbled a bit as she kicked her knickers off and he just couldn’t help reaching for her. “Merlin, you’re beautiful.”

“That’s sweet of you to say. May I help you out of those pants?” Without waiting for a response, she tugged his underwear down his legs then moved her hands up to stroke his chest. “Bit hairier than I imagined.”

His eyes widened of their own accord. “You… imagined?”

“Well, I… er, perhaps.” 

The blush in her cheeks was quite becoming. Solely for the sake of relieving her embarrassment, he stooped down to kiss her. 

Tentatively, he raised a hand to her breast and squeezed. She leaned into him, but he was at a loss as to what else to do with it so he slid his hand down her side and over her rounded hip. Her skin was burning hot.

She moved her fingers across his chest and pinched a nipple. He gasped at the unexpected sensation, and resolved to remember it for the next time he got his hands on her breasts.

“On the bed, Severus.”

He had no objection to that, and they were soon stretched out atop her quilt, skin to skin.

“Oh, you feel so good.” He fought to control his hands, but they flitted over her body with very little input from his conscious mind. He wanted to savor this, to pay close attention and commit it to memory, but it seemed his brain was not functioning at full capacity.

She snaked a hand between their bodies and wrapped her fingers around his aching prick. “Are you ready?”

He dropped his head to her shoulder with a groan.

“Thought so.” She stretched away from him and dug through her bedside table.

When he saw she had a condom he moved to take it from her, but she wouldn’t let him have it. Instead, she unwrapped it and rolled it down his cock herself.

He panted and tried to calm himself down. Didn’t she know that if she kept touching him that way they would have no need for protection?

He realized he had closed his eyes when she stroked her knuckles across his cheek and tucked the hair behind his ear.

“You with me, Severus?”

“Entirely.”

She lay back with her knees bent and he positioned himself between her legs. He wanted to ask if she was certain, if this was what she really wanted, but thought he would sound like a prat. She had amply demonstrated her willingness.

He lifted her legs, thinking to rest her ankles on his shoulders, but she winced. “Ouch, ouch, hamstrings.” She tucked her knees over his elbows instead. “All right?”

Mortified at his blunder, he just nodded.

“Now, Severus. Please.”

He pushed forward and she tilted her hips until they fit together. He gasped as the head of his prick breached her. He’d forgotten what this felt like. Had it ever felt this good? “Hermione.”

“Deeper. Don’t be shy.”

He doubted he could have found the breath to explain it to her even if he’d wanted to, but the pace was more for himself than for her. Just seeing the look on her face and the rapid rise and fall of her chest, feeling her heels digging into his back and her wet heat clenching around his cock, just knowing that she was here with him this way was nearly enough to do him in.

Slowly, he began to thrust. 

Hermione wriggled her bottom and tilted her hips every few seconds until she gasped, “Yes, there!” She clenched her teeth and hissed, “Harder!”

After that, he could not hold back. When he heard her murmuring wordless exclamations and felt her channel squeeze around him, it was too much. Three sharp, erratic thrusts later he was spilling himself inside her.

The next thing he was aware of was her hands caressing his back. He lifted his head from her shoulder and shifted most of his weight off her.

“That was… mmm.”

“Quite.” He surreptitiously pulled the condom off his prick and set it on the floor. He couldn’t be arsed about it at the moment.

Looking at her flushed face, he wanted to say something, anything, to convey to her what he was feeling, but he had never been adept at expressing his emotions. 

She wrapped one arm around his shoulders and started carding her fingers through his hair.

He nuzzled his nose against her neck and settled for, “Thank you.”

She leaned back so she could see his face. “So, have you got what you were after, then?” she asked, gesturing between them to punctuate her meaning.

“I’m not entirely certain,” he said carefully.

“Well, what was it you wanted?”

“Just you. For as long as you will have me.”

Her smile showed her relief, and he met her with fervor when she leaned in for a kiss.

FINITE.


End file.
